Harry Potter and the Book of Moonfall
by SirNickTheWizard
Summary: When a book full of heavy dark magic is swiped from the beloved Flourish and Blotts, aurors Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger must race against time to find the burglar before he uses the book for his own insidious means. *Disclaimer: Although the story line itself is mine, all characters and places belong entirely to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.*
1. Prologue

The man stared at his pallid reflection in the translucent pane of glass. Heavy bags lay under his eyes, dark in contrast to his pallor skin. The signs of exhaustion were etched deeply into his features.

The man had eyes that flickered like dying charcoal, and a mass of untidy, short black hair.

Around him, the narrow street of Diagon Alley, bordered on either side by a number of mysterious shops, lay silent beneath the inky black sky, stars dotting its expanse.

The man, just for safe measure, chucked a glance to his left and right, his heart purring with pleasure due to the absence of human company on the street behind him.

A light, warming satisfaction settled over him like a blanket. All the planning had been worthwhile. Hadn't he had doubts? Of course, any normal man would. But yet, in his strive for greatness, he overcame doubt, and _that _made him feel powerful.

Seizing the moment as it came so gracefully into his midst, the man reached into the shabby black cloak he was wearing. He retrieved his black, sleek wand. Power seemed to emanate from it like radiation.

The corners of the man's mouth began to pull into a triumphant smile as he raised it the glass before him, and with a moment of relishing in his pride, he muttered "_Diffindo."_

The moment the words slithered from his tongue, a long, thin crack sliced vertically down the pane, distorting the man's reflection. Excitement course through his veins as he stowed away his wand carefully back within the confines of his cloak.

It seemed even the stars waited with hushed silence, watching the man intently, watching him achieve what he hungered for. _So close _the man thought zealously.

The man then, without magic, drove his bare fist through crack he had caused and the pane of glass shattered to a myriad pieces, his reflection now truly lost.

The shatter seemed to reverberate off the squat gray buildings around him, but the man did not care.

The store he had just broken a window from was called Flourish and Blotts. The man remembered coming here when _he _was a child, getting his books. He remembered the cloud of happiness around him, everyone eager to learn until their brains wore dry. There was still so much to learn though, the man knew that much.

The man then proceeded through the broken pane, his heavy black boots crunching leftover glass beneath his feet.

With one last glance at Diagon Alley, the man receded into the dark hole that was Flourish and Blotts.

It was cast into blackness, yet the smell of books lingered. He could tell just by sniffing the air a little more that it was fairly dusty. The owner, from what the man knew, was asleep upstairs on the second landing.

With a stalking grace like that of a predator, an apex one at that, the man began to approach a door marked _For Shop Owner Only. _It lay behind the desk where books were purchased.

Every ounce of him willed against the owner awakening. For what the owner would do if he found a man sneaking into the employee door, the man did not know, and wasn't particularly keen on finding out.

So the man continued with his light footed grace. Finally, before he even knew it, he had reached the door, its knob gleaming vulnerably at him. The man extended his hand and tried to open it, but it was locked.

Silently, the man withdrew his wand once more and pointed it at the knob. "_Alohomora," _said the man as quiet as his throat would allow.

A peaceful jet of yellow and orange light lit the knob and the feint sound of a lock unlocking could be heard audibly.

The man then sheathed his wand yet again, and pulled the knob. It opened to a room. But this room was much different then the one outside it.

The walls were stone, where the walls outside this room were stacked high to the ceiling with endless volumes and books.

The room had an uncomfortable smell to it, a damp and musty stench. But the man did not care whether the walls were stone or the odor was wet… he cared for what lay in the _middle _of the room, glinting at him as if it wanted to be taken.

Concealed within a translucent glass box upon a stone column the height of the man's waist was a book, bound in a parchment like leather.

Beaming down upon it was a skylight, moonlight slicing in and illuminating it a beautiful silver.

The man's smile was nothing compared to what it was now, full of manic glee and joy. _At last _he thought.

The man took time to bask in his own reverie, his own accomplishment that rendered him caught in a euphoria of pleasure.

But soon, catching the encased book with his dark brown eyes whisked him out of his stupor quickly.

Still grinning, the man approached the entrapped book, his eyes flickering with on edge happiness.

Without even daring or bothering to use his wand, the man raised two fists and shattered the glass like he did the pane outside only this time, like said before, without a wand.

Above him, the owner jerked awake so suddenly he thought he might have died right there. Not even taking a moment to let the waking up so quickly phase him, he dashed to the door of his room, threw it open, and scuttled downstairs to the first landing, shelves of books growing taller as he descended.

Once he reached the bottom, the first sign of something amiss and peculiar was the shattered window, only he knew that he also heard the sound right below his room, and his heart sunk horribly as a single throat drifted to the topmost part of his head: _The Book. _

Flooded with fear, the man turned around and with already sinking horror noticed the employee door open and he ran into it and found the missing book and glass surrounding the empty podium.

His eyes wide, he dashed back outside and headed straight for the store's front door and wrenched it open, and the last thing he could see was the swishing of a black coat at the corner of Diagon Alley, and then whoever took his beloved treasure was gone.


	2. The Book Hermione Never Read

Harry Potter always wondered what Diagon Alley looked like after Hogwarts term had commenced. In his mind he imagined it barren, absent of life. For what use was Diagon Alley to the wizarding world after Hogwarts was in session? Surely no one needed to use the shops? But, Harry had been wrong.

Witches and wizards bustled past him, each different, each unique. Above him, reflected in his glasses, was a bright sun surrounded by milky white clouds and a forget-me-not blue atmosphere.

Barely audible above the chatter of people around Harry, a distinct and familiar voice spoke to his right. "I still don't get it," said Ron Weasley, his eyes immersed into the crowd of people that now flooded Diagon Alley, some perusing shop windows, others buying other things.

An impatient, yet affectionate, snort rose from Harry's right. "What is there not to understand?" asked Hermione Weasley.

The three stood at the front of Diagon Alley, standing side by side, having a full view of the narrow lane where each side was bordered by squat shops.

Ron narrowed his eyes as he looked ahead. "Its just, well, isn't this sort of thing for a _lesser _department? I mean, a book getting stolen from Flourish and Blotts isn't the sort of things us aurors get in to, now is it?"

Hermione shook her head gently. "_Honestly _Ronald, do you not read a word in the letter Mr. Keeper sent us? He said the book that was stolen was a family heirloom of his, _full _of dark magic. If in the wrong hands, it can prove to be dangerous. He specifically required us to three to help him find out who took it, and we _will_," Hermione said.

With that, the three then began a trek into the swelling crowd that swarmed in Diagon Alley.

At first, Harry found it quite difficult to navigate through such a condensed crowd, but soon, he caught a quick view of a squat, green shop that he instantly knew was where he, Ron, and Hermione needed to be.

"Over here," said Harry, shoving as kindly as he could through the crowd, his two best friends behind him.

After much maneuvering, Harry and his beloved friends finally reached Flourish and Blotts. Oddly, to the right of the door, Harry noticed a pane of glass was shattered inwards.

Ignoring it, he walked to the front door and pulled it open, the smell of books cascading over him.

Inside, stacked on either sides of the walls, where shelves full of countless volumes and books.

Dust settled in a fine blanket on the floor. Hermione glared in wonder. "Its been so long since we've been here," said Hermione.

"A little too long at that," a kind, wise voice spoke from the second landing, a wooden railing lining it.

Mr. Keeper stood, his curly gray hair and brown eyes bright from the sunlight pouring in through the windows of the shop.

He began his way towards them, and once he reached the bottom steps, his lips puckered. "Of course, I wish I were meeting you three on better circumstances, but, I'm afraid, I'm not."

He smiled, but behind that smile, Harry could see worry. "Here, have a seat," said Mr. Keeper, gesturing towards a table by a shelf of books.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione kindly followed and seated themselves across from Mr. Keeper who sat down across from them.

His expression was that of care mingled with sadness. "Something," he began, "has happened to my beloved store." Mr. Keeper let the words linger in the air, as if they were real and tangible, as if they were volatile. Harry remained silent, keen on hearing why the theft of a book would bring aurors like himself and his friends to investigate.

"You see, although it may not look it, I'm the descendant of a one Emeric the Evil, (Hermione gasped, making Harry feel he should have listened more intently in History of Magic as a child), I know, quite shocking. Emeric was obsessed with power, rivaling even that of Grindelwald in his road to power. In his reign, my ancestor Emeric the Evil fastened a book out of an old tree. A book, in which, held powers unknown, but certainly dark. The book...," Mr. Keeper paused, "… is called _The Book of Moonfall_."

Harry expected a sigh or a "oh!" from Hermione, but nothing. In fact, Harry turned to stare at Hermione. "Heard of it?" He asked, but as Hermione shook her head, Mr. Keeper cut in anyway. "She wouldn't have. My families kept it a secret for nearly six centuries, hiding it, stowing it safely away. It possesses dark magic that even Voldemort himself couldn't have knowledge of. I hid it in my store, like those of my family before me, hoping that it should never be stolen, but now it has been."

Mr. Keeper took a deep breath and continued.

"Last night, I heard the shattering of glass and came downstairs to find the book… the book gone from its pedestal. I went outside and saw the outline of a man but he had escaped already, my book with him. That was when I sent you the letter. I've heard of you aurors, the profound accomplishments, so I called upon you. This is a matter," Mr. Keeper gulped, "of the upmost importance."

Harry sat in silence along with his friends, pondering this mysterious Book of Moonfall. "Mr. Keeper, sir, would you mind sparing what was in the book?" asked Hermione. Mr. Keeper than shook his head.

"My dear girl, no, never. My mother told me by just opening the book could drive a wizard mad. No, I didn't _dare. _I locked it in that glass case atop that podium in hopes of it never being found. Now, it has. Whoever has that book can do unspeakable evil with it. I don't mean to be pesty, but you three _must _find the thief of this book and stop him," said Mr. Keeper.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "We would, sir, but I take it you had no clue who the man was who took The Book of Moonfall?" asked Ron.

Mr. Keeper shook his head yet again. "I'm afraid I have no clue who took the book, but I can tell you this," began Mr. Keeper, leaning in and speaking in an intense tone, "that book is volatile. Full of nightmares and dreamscapes, death and pain… if the person who has it wants to use it badly, he will be unstoppable."

Hermione gulped. "Its just so… so _odd _that I've never heard of this book." Ron sniggered. "Ha! A book you haven't read dear," said Ron. Harry giggled but off Hermione's glare he fixed his face into a serious expression.

"Anyway, _as _I was saying, I just think if this book is as powerful as you say it to be Mr. Keeper, we will find it in our best interest to find it as fast as we can, and be damned if we don't," said Hermione.

Mr. Keeper nodded, appreciative of Hermione's perseverance.

"Well, we better be off then," said Harry.

Mr. Keeper nodded.

With that, the golden trio left Flourish and Blotts, each determined to find who stole Mr. Keepers volume of dark magic, The Book of Moonfall.


End file.
